The Only Salvation
by AndSheWasBeautiful
Summary: Grimmjow Jaegerjaques sneers and Orihime Inoue tries to remember when chocolate brown eyes were her only salvation. G/O
1. Only Salvation

**The Only Salvation.**

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><p><strong>. here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. there is no why .<strong>

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><p>Blue.<p>

Why, when there's no sky here, does she always think of blue?

It's not... _sky_ blue though.

No.

More like.

Cobalt.

Yes, _cobalt_ blue.

She remembers an experiment she did in chemistry one time. The teacher had produced cobalt from the storeroom, and she had been immediately mesmerized.

But, the sky is never cobalt blue. Always paler, not unpleasant, but not vivid and wild and –

No.

So why then, does this colour fascinate her beyond all else here in her whitewashed prison?

"I sense your distraction," Ulquiorra says one evening whilst leaving her supper. She glances up at him, chopsticks in hand.

"Not distracted," she says carefully, going to pick at her cuttlefish wondering if Ulquiorra would find her strange should she tell him of her curiosity with the colour blue.

But cobalt blue, not sky blue.

"Do not try and evade the truth, woman," he says quietly, as the Numeros that brought her supper bow out of her room.

"Ulquiorra, it's strange," she says. She does not take exact pleasure speaking with Ulquiorra – it was him, after all, that kidnapped her from the World of the Living. However, being trapped in Las Noches has made her lonely. So lonely, she will strike up conversation with her own shadow late at night when she thinks no one can hear.

He makes no move to show he is listening, but he watches her intently.

"I keep having dreams of the colour blue."

"Blue?" he echoes after a moment of hesitation. She nods, shoving a wasabi coated piece of cuttlefish into her mouth. She chews slowly and the room is silent again, Ulquiorra's empty breaths the only exception.

"Mmm. Yes," she adds, and he glances at the bars on her window.

"Perhaps you miss the sky," he says and she smiles, his error amusing her.

"No... it's more of a... cobalt blue," she says, a soft smile on her lips as she places another piece of flaky cuttlefish in her mouth.

"Cobalt... blue?" Ulquiorra's expressionless face is as it always is. Expressionless. Still, she can hear the waver of uncertainty in his tones, in the back of his throat.

"Yes... never mind though... just something strange that came to me in my boredom!" she smiles at him, her smile dead at her eyes, and shoves more cuttlefish in her mouth.

"You know you are free to wander Las Noches as you please," Ulquiorra says quietly, before sweeping out of the room, leaving an air of never ending emptiness in his wake.

No cobalt blue though.

It isn't until she takes his advice and leaves her room the next day to venture down the corridor.

Las Noches is a maze of identical hallways, all icy cold. Many Arrancar pass her by, but none look all to pleased to see her. A man with pink hair regards her carefully, an almost-smirk upon his face. A woman passes, eyes lowered to the ground, large collar concealing her lips. She is followed by other females, and nods as she passes.

The hallways come to an end and she realises. She is lost, and there is not a hint of cobalt blue in sight.

She begins to panic, glancing around and hurrying around corners and skidding down hallways to try and find something familiar in this place to lead her back to her room.

Nothing but white walls and stone, and she has all but given up and plans to rot here when she sees it.

In the corner of her eye, perhaps not even there, but there nonetheless.

A dash of cobalt blue as quick as a flash of lightening, when it disappears.

She gasps and begins to run, following the blue for fear of the emptiness behind her, and scared of the emptiness which lies ahead, only hoping this colour, this cobalt she sees will lead her to something other than mind numbing, heart crushing _loneliness_.

She sees it again, and runs faster, and it leaps from place to place.

Her heart hums in her chest like a nervous little bird's and she does not know what has happened when she hits something hard.

She is in the middle of the corridor – she could not have hit a wall.

Orihime looks up into depths of cobalt blue and her humming heart rushes to a stop causing her to clutch her chest as the cobalt hardens and her eyes are drawn to the whole of the perfect face with the perfect eyes.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques sneers and Orihime Inoue tries to remember when chocolate brown eyes were her only salvation.

His face is angular, his jaw darkened with stubble, his broken mask pale as bone, his hair tousled and shining.

And his eyes.

They aren't quite the cobalt blue she remembers, but they are so close she is sure she made a mistake.

"What are you doing so far from your room, woman? And what are you doing chasing my shadow like some sort of lost animal?" he sneers, shoving her away from his chest where she has been balancing. She stumbles back, and catches herself, tucking a strand of auburn behind her ear. She cannot speak yet – the cobalt still captivates her.

His eyes narrow at her intent stare, and he growls, low and feral, reminding her of a cat.

"Answer me!" he growls, fist clenched at his side. She gulps and flounders for a reply.

"I...! Ulquiorra told me I was free to look around and I did, but I got lost after seeing this weird guy with pink hair and a beautiful woman with a big collar and I started to panic, and I've been having these weird dr - I... I saw blue and I th-thought... it might... be you," she trails off, hiding her pathetic obsession with his eyes only with even more pathetic lies. He snorts, and shoves his hands in pockets, edging dangerously towards her.

"Right. And what good would finding me be? Haven't you heard how I want to tear your little friend Kurosaki limb from limb? ...No," he grins, wide and feral and leans down so his lips brush her ear lobe, making her shiver involuntarily.

He is speaking of killing Ichigo, and she should be repulsed.

"Limb from limb would be too quick... I want to tear each and every one of his bones from each other, right from under his skin so I can see it break and split and feel his blood all over my hands-"

"Stop it!" she manages, brows furrowed, hands balled into fists as she puts up her most furious facade towards him. He pulls back from her ear, and she watches slits of cobalt as he grins roguishly at her, before snatching her arm roughly and tugging so hard she is surprised her shoulder is not dislocated.

"Stop stumbling, idiot! Just keep up," he hisses, pulling her harsher.

Orihime wishes she could see his eyes, the slash of cobalt in a realm of white.

"Wh-Where are you taking me?" she chokes out, as she struggles to keep up with his hasty steps. His laugh is a bark in the dim silence of Las Noches. He whirls around and she hits his chest once again, to which he tilts her chin up with his forefinger allowing her to gaze straight into those glowing cobalt blue eyes, and his grin is sleek, his sharp incisors like fangs.

"To my room of course. I figured if I found you, then I can play with you. At least for a little while," he hisses, face dark. She gasps, eyes widening in terror, at the thought of Grimmjow strapping her down in the emptiness of his chambers. At the look of fear in her eyes, and the tremble of her fingers, Grimmjow laughs louder than ever before turning sharply and proceeding to drag her.

"Relax you idiot woman. Do you actually think I could bring you back to my room when Ulquiorra's got a fucking search warrant out for you? Guy's shitting himself thinking he lost Aizen's precious little pet," he laughs sharply, yanking her arm harsher.

Orihime breathes a sigh of relief as she sees her door, thrown ajar and Grimmjow pushes her inside, frowning slightly at her.

"When Ulquiorra says you can wander round, he means to learn the fucking way back first, woman," he says sharply, his eyes glittering in the darkness of her room. Her breath hitches at their colour and he smirks.

"And think next time before you start spouting your mouth off about my fucking eyes or whatever – the rumours about me are wild enough without you shit stirring."

"Not your eyes. Just their colour," she blurts without thinking as he turns to leave. He jolts back round, said eyes dull with contempt, teeth slightly bared.

"I don't give a fuck. It's not you've never seen blue eyes before-"

"They're the only ones I've seen here. In Las Noches. They remind me of chemistry class and cobalt and Tatsuki and freedom."

His brow raises and he steps a little closer, body falling into the shadows, eyes glittering.

"Freedom? Trust me, _woman_," he spits, leering over her form. "I don't know anything about _freedom_."

She stands her ground, so their noses are almost touching and the heartbreaking shade of cobalt bears in upon her as her breath catches in her throat.

"But more so than the others," she murmurs.

His breathing is rapid for a moment, and the anger dissipates from his face, his sharp sneer back and he laughs, the bark of a laugh that reverberates across the bare walls of her chambers. He turns to go, pausing only in the doorway and winking at her so his cobalt eyes glitter and shine.

Grimmjow Jaegerjaques sneers and Orihime Inoue tries to remember when chocolate brown eyes were her only salvation.

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><p>I have such a fetish for these two at the moment. My first attempt at anything in Bleach other than HitsuHina... (who are substantially different to these two!) Reviews are love! (:<p> 


	2. His Sexta Espada

**The Only Salvation.**

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><p><strong>. color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment .<strong>

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><p>Orange.<p>

Obnoxious, arrogant, crude.

Everything she is not.

His fists meet the cool stone of his wall, and he feels the force of the impact ripple up his arms.

He licks his lips and savours the feeling as he feels his anger seep from his body into the unforgiving walls of his chamber.

Fucking _woman_, and her stupid fucking orange hair.

His anger flares once again and he slams his fist, harder this time, feeling the dull ache in his knuckles against the smooth stone.

He bites his lip.

He slides his tongue along the blood he has drawn from his lower lip.

The taste isn't as sumptuous as usual, and he frowns.

It is bitter in his mouth.

She would be sweet.

"Fuck!"

The wall is not quenching his thirst for bloodshed any longer, and he turns, furious with himself as he flops down on his futon, eyes trained on the high ceiling.

And Grimmjow wonders.

Why does the mere thought of that _woman_ and her orange hair infuriate him?

Why does it irk him so to know that her hair is such a shocking shade of orange?

Why does _she_ irk him so?

He throws his legs from his futon and snorts.

Freedom.

He knows nothing of freedom. She is wrong when she says he is freer than the other Espada. No. If anything, he is more tightly restrained, Aizen's metal reigns searing his flesh like they were white hot, leaving angry marks on his skin and his being in the form of a number six.

She may have mistaken his so called 'freedom' for an indignant attitude and a severe dislike of being told what to do.

Aizen may have 'created' them, but he should have fucking expected them to develop their own thoughts and opinions.

Or maybe he had.

He probably had.

Aizen is a sleeked bastard like that.

There is a sharp tap at his door, and before he can answer, it swings open to reveal the form of Ulquiorra. Grimmjow sits up and a sneer finds its way onto his face. Even seeing that guy fills him with a strange mixture of glee and rage – glee at his ridiculous grovelling towards Aizen, and rage at his hierarchy within the Espada when all he does is kiss ass and babysit a pet.

"I understand you found Inoue."

His voice is soft, yet his luxurious tones ring throughout the cavernous chamber of Grimmjow's, and the Sexta Espada growls.

One thing Ulquiorra is unquestionably good at – making his very blood boil with only a flutter of those pretty eyelashes.

"She found me, whipped bitch," he replies, trying hard to keep his tone indifferent, his anger seeping through to the tip of his tongue.

Ulquiorra quirks a brow a fraction of an inch, and steps into the room, regarding the room with an otherwise expressionless disposition.

"I haven't a care for riddles today, Grimmjow. Lord Aizen is anxious to reward the Arrancar who returned Inoue unscathed... However, I must have been mistaken when I sensed your reiatsu in her room – surely you of all people would have-"

"Would've what? Dragged her back here and fucked her little lights out?" Grimmjow spits, standing to face Ulquiorra, shoulders hunched in a hostile position. Ulquiorra stands still, his hands in his pockets, his lips twisting slightly in distaste.

"I would have phrased it less crudely, but yes, in short."

"Yeah well, take your fucking reward party elsewhere. I don't give a shit what Aizen thinks of me taking that little idiot back to her room!" Grimmjow hisses, walking closer to Ulquiorra, hoping to intimidate Emptiness from his quarters.

Ulquiorra does not move.

"I must insist you accompany me to meet with Lord Aizen. That is an order," Ulquiorra all but whispers the last part, and Grimmjow eyes him maliciously, his fists clenching tightly as the Cuarto's final words echo throughout the room. Grimmjow all but spits in his face but storms past Ulquiorra.

"Whatever, _lady_."

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><p>Aizen's chambers are cold.<p>

Aizen is cold.

Grimmjow fucking hates this place.

He enters and the man in question smiles.

That fucking orange haired woman is standing to the side of his throne, steely grey eyes wide with that mixture of fear and confusion and loneliness in her eyes, and it makes Grimmjow want to squeeze her tiny white throat until the light leaves them.

"Grimmjow. How kind of you to join us," Aizen murmurs, his voice echoing.

Grimmjow does not speak, but merely grits his teeth and tries to ignore that girl's neck, white and frail and simply beckoning for his strong and capable fingers to twist around and apply the tiniest bit of pressure.

He very nearly smiles.

"I understand you were the one who found Orihime and kindly escorted her back to her room before she could be harmed by one of our... rowdier friends," he states, glancing at the girl in question who looks him the eye before wincing as he looks away.

"Whatever. She was the one who came to me," he mumbles, hands deep in his pockets, as his eyes flicker from Aizen to Inoue.

The rest of her is tiny also. Her arm would snap with the slightest twitch of his wrist... the smallest amount of pressure would cause large bruises to bloom across her flesh like macabre purple flowers. He would take pleasure in rearranging her pretty face, and seeing what Kurosaki would actually do when he saw her.

This time, the grin escapes him, and Aizen nods.

"So, what would you like?"

Grimmjow's eyes fell back to him stupidly.

"What?"

Aizen's grin is slow and menacing, and Grimmjow represses a shiver of hatred as he regards him.

"_Listen_, Grimmjow. A reward for helping Inoue. Anything you like, within reason," he states condescendingly, his eyes glittering like beetle backs in the dimming light.

Grimmjow pauses only a moment, before making his final decision.

His face splits into a grin, his canines shimmering and he sees Inoue gulp.

"I wanna be allowed in her room," he says, pointing a long finger at the girl.

Her eyes widen a little in surprise, and she glances at Aizen for his approval on the matter.

Grimmjow's grin never falters, as Aizen's head falls into his palm and he watches his Sexta Espada.

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><p><strong>My reviewers kind of bullied me into the extention of my oneshot... and I'm obsessed with GrimmHime, so I was happy to oblige. I'm sick right now! :C So I'm writing it in my sickness to make you happy (: Reviews are absolute love (:<strong>


	3. No Certainty

**The Only Salvation.**

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><p><strong>. curiosity begins as an act of tearing to pieces or analysis .<strong>

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><p>The wonder surrounding his eyes has never only been fascination. But the fear is more poignant now that he stands in the doorway once more, watching her with the wariness of a feline.<p>

She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and wishes Ulquiorra hadn't left.

And she wonders for the umpteenth time why he came here.

She does not wonder for too long – the malicious intent glittering in the hollows of cobalt tell her enough of what he is thinking of.

But surely he will not hurt her?

She gulps as he approaches, certain that with Grimmjow, there is no certainty.

"What're you sitting there staring at me for_, woman_?" he shoots at her, his voice characteristically hot. She shakes her head, and blinks, as though to tell him she is not so distracted with him that she must stare.

"I... I'm not," she adds, turning to the window, gazing at the distant whispering of the sands, wishing she was anywhere in the world but here.

Perhaps when she first came here she would have wished to be in Kurosaki's arms.

She doesn't wish for this anymore.

Well, not as much as she used to.

She turns back, to see he has shut the door, sealing the barrier between light and darkness.

Orihime would have liked to think she was the source of light and the echoing halls of Hueco Mundo to be naught but darkness – but as she bites back emotions she knew to be wrong and terrible and despicable, she finds it hard to believe her own lies.

Grimmjow's teeth cut through the darkness, their stark white a contrast to his pale skin. His canines sparkle and she feels her pulse jump in her neck.

His eyes jump to the spot, and the room is frozen with frigid tension.

He breaks the silence.

"So, what do you do in here for fun?"

Orihime stares at him blankly, and a tiny, manic sounding laugh escapes her lips, the first laugh she has experienced since she came here, to this prison. She catches herself and tilts her head, a tiny smile on her face.

"You honestly think Ulquiorra is a champion of fun?" she asks him, rolling her eyes.

She has aimed her retort correctly – any insult towards Ulquiorra makes Grimmjow instantly amused, and she sees the mirth in his eyes as he throws his head back in laughter, relishing her comment.

"Nah, prissy bitch doesn't seem like someone who'd make sure you had a lotta fun," he remarks, lounging on her sofa like it is his own, stretching luxuriously, mimicking the cat he is at heart.

"Mmm," she makes a small noise of agreement and fiddles with the hem of her sleeve, sensing his piercing gaze on her once again.

It makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

"What age are you?" he shoots from his perch and Orihime glances up, replying almost robotically.

"Sixteen."

"You got family? What, Ulquiorra wipe their fucking memories?"

"No. My brother died when I was younger, and he was my only family."

Grimmjow rolls his eyes.

"You just get more and more pathetic, don't you? You must practice those big doe eyes in the mirror," he says, venom on the tip of his tongue, sighing in distaste.

Orihime's brows furrow.

"I'm _not _pathetic," she says, rather pathetically it seems, before cursing herself for rising to his taunt. Grimmjow is trying to draw a reaction from her. She knows this.

He hopes to engage her in an argument, so perhaps he can harm her and get away with it as 'teaching her a lesson'.

He grins, maliciously.

"Not pathetic, huh? You sure do look it, woman. Standing there beside Aizen with those big, _pathetic_ eyes. You've completely given up on everything, and now all you can do is bitch about it in your own special little way," he sneers, throwing his legs round, so he is facing her, elbows balanced on his knees as he points his fingers at her.

She breathes deeply, and ignores him.

He chuckles cruelly, sitting back.

"Thought so. _So_ pathetic you actually think I can be fucked with you, poor little _princess_. Truth is, I'm just bored to fuck with the place and thought you might make it a little more interesting. Funny, I'm not usually so wrong," he adds contemptuously.

"Stop it!"

Her sharp retort comes from darkness, and her shoulders shake, as her body is overcome with emotions she has been rejecting so easily.

It is her nature to reject, after all.

Reject her feelings for Kurosaki, reject the guilt over her brother, reject injuries from existence, reject Ulquiorra's presence, reject the anger and loneliness and terror she feels all day every day in this Godforsaken place.

"You... you don't know..." she says feebly, trying to control the heart wrenching angst she feels.

He reacts to this, and she wishes she had just kept her stupid mouth shut.

"What? I don't know what it feels like to be trapped? To be a prisoner in your own fucking skin! To not be able to move or sleep or take a _fucking dump_ without asking someone first? Well here's a reality check for you _princess_! You're not the only prisoner in this place! So man the fuck up and stop wishing for your precious Kurosaki –"

Grimmjow stops, mid-rant, just as she winces hardest.

She does not strike him.

She knows everything he says to be the truth.

Hearing them from the Sexta Espada himself has made goose pimples arise on her delicate flesh, and she feels her chest restrict.

Grimmjow looks as though he has had a revelation.

"Kurosaki... he has the same...! You two!" he points an accusing finger at her and she frowns, pointing a trembling finger at her own chest, watching him carefully. "Your hair! It's orange! Kurosaki has fucking orange hair! That's why it makes me so angry!"

Orihime is confused by this, unawares to the fact that her hair makes him so enraged.

He lashes forth and snatches a strand, tugging hard before the yelp of pain can even escape her pained lips. She stumbles and he successfully yanks the clump of orange from her scalp in a swift flick of his wrist.

Her eyes water and she bites her lip in pain as he steps back and regards it.

Grimmjow grins, almost manically, Orihime thinks.

"This'll help me get pumped if I ever have to fight anyone! Just seeing that guys fucking hair makes me practically ache to... _kill_," he says the last word almost reverently, eyeing the hair fisted in his hand, and Orihime's stomach twists.

"But it's not his hair! It's mine!" she says, her eyes still stinging dangerously. Grimmjow raises a brow and leans in.

"So now the little princess has a tongue," he replies smoothly.

Orihime feels rare anger surge in her throat and she bites it back, not wanting to make an enemy of the Sexta. Grimmjow's eyes are slits, and the cobalt is menacing.

Orihime hates herself for the jump it gives her heart, and wonders why he makes her feel so... invigorated. Like she has been sleeping for a long time, dormant for years until that sparkle of cobalt awoke her violently, with a tug of her hair.

Grimmjow laughs and turns to go, when she plucks up the courage to question him.

"Why did you choose this, Grimmjow? As a reward?"

He stops gazing at his shiny orange prize and turns to her, watching her carefully, that strange feline look in his eyes again, as though he is sizing her up.

"Impulse, I guess. I was looking at how pretty you are," he remarks, leaning forth, face close.

Orihime's heart stutters and blood rushes to her face, the heat becoming unbearable.

Grimmjow grins cruelly, eyes narrowing.

"I mean, just look at your pretty little neck. All white and thin... I mean one flick of the wrist and it would snap... and your skin... it would bruise so easily wouldn't it? All purple and red... Your waist too. I could just slide my hands around there and – " he mimics snapping something easily, and her stomach twists once more.

She watches him with empty eyes and he rolls his own.

"Relax. Didn't you listen to me yesterday? I touch Ulquiorra's little pet and Aizen won't let _me_ out of _my_ fucking room," he spits brutally, and Orihime steps forth a little.

"If you hate this place so much, just leave! Go! There's _nothing_ keeping you here!" she tells him, as fiercely as she can in her meek little voice.

She is suddenly painfully aware of how tiny she is in comparison to even his booming voice, and she tries as hard as she can not to shrink below his strong form. Grimmjow leans forth, so close he leans down to her neck.

She stiffens, her heart hammering in her chest, from fear or excitement she does not know – and she despises herself for it.

She feels Grimmjow's hot breath on her neck, and wonders how those sharp canines would feel pressed against her neck, so they snapped the rosy flesh there like elastic, and she is disgusted with herself.

"Of course there is – you think I'd leave you? ...This is going to be _way_ too much fun," he breathes, making shivers race down her spine as though in competition with each other.

He pulls away, tucking her hair into his belt and turning to leave, the light spilling in once more and bathing him in a strange pale glow.

Orihime watches him go, certain she is not involving herself in Grimmjow anymore than absolutely necessary.

She feels tears sting her eyes once more, as she realises once more that with Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, there is no certainty.

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><p><strong>Well... no one seems to interested, but I wrote this chapter and I liked it so... I hope you will too. I'm trying to get across the spiteful feline in Grimmjow, hence his curiousity etc. I kinda wanna show how he's not ALWAYS yelling and completely pissed... he just has a tendancy to get angry... :L Um, so yeah. Hope you enjoy (: Reviews are love (:<strong>


	4. To Share In Torture

**The Only Salvation.**

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><p><strong>. pretty girl is suffering while he confesses everything .<strong>

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><p>The lengths of orange rest against his stomach, as he watches her intently.<p>

He has been three times in the past week.

The reason is simple – she fascinates him.

The way the single hue of her orange hair ignites the most passionate feeling of anger within his hollow chest. The way her eyes are steely and clear, yet pathetic and clouded. The way she moves, in tiny steps and graceful measures, making him lust for the feeling of those delicate bones snapping beneath his fingers.

And he is a man – so Orihime is of course highly attractive.

And she manages to keep him entertained, unlike the grovelling of Loly and Menoly.

"Can you remember anything about when you were alive?" she asks him quietly one afternoon, as he lounges on her bed, hands behind his head. He quirks a brow and bares his teeth a little in bitter distaste.

She is so fucking stupid sometimes.

"What the fuck do you think? Stupid woman," he mumbles as an afterthought, shutting his eyes and ignoring her.

"It's just, I've heard that part of the journey to achieve bankai is to remember how you died –"

"And what Espada do you know that have a fucking bankai?" he sneers, eyes still closed, his jaw growing tenser as her stupid questions rage on.

Orihime frowns and tucks a strand of infuriating hair behind her ear, eyeing him carefully.

"But you have a Resurreccion form, don't you? Aren't they the equivalent?"

Grimmjow growls low in his throat and sits up straight, watching her, eyes glinting maliciously.

"No. We don't remember. We're Hollows not nancy-pansy shinigami. Death isn't the important part- it's how hard you kick it's fucking ass once you get to the other side," he says coldly, teeth sharp against the soft flesh of his lower lip as he spits out the words.

She regards him, almost sadly for a moment from her isolated perch by the window and he is on the verge of reaching up and smacking her for looking at him so pityingly, when she speaks again.

"You're Destruction. Aren't you?"

His eyes rake across her form for a moment before he nods.

"Ulquiorra is... Sadness?"

Grimmjow snorts before sitting up straight and throwing his legs from the bed.

"Girly man is Emptiness. Bet he can't even jerk off right," Grimmjow sniggers at his own joke, running calloused fingers through powder blue hair, and glancing at that woman, who is watching him intently, as though his comment has wronged her deeply.

"Don't say that. If I was Emptiness, I would feel... well, I suppose I feel like anything," she remarks, turning to gaze out the steel bars of her window. The moon flickers in her large, round eyes, and Grimmjow's own cobalt ones narrow in contempt.

"Don't tell me you feel sorry for Queen Ass-Licker?" he asks, voice dripping with venom over the mere mention of Ulquiorra.

The girl says nothing, but her doleful eyes shimmer and Grimmjow laughs cruelly.

"Even though he's the one that stole you away and trapped you and fucking tells you over and over again about how you'll be in here forever? How can you _not_ fucking hate him?"

Orihime turns and looks at him, eyes strong now, that eternal dusting of fear lingering within them and Grimmjow is satisfied that she is still frightened of him.

"I don't hate if I can help it. Hate consumes people, eats them alive. Soon all you do is hate and nothing else – you're living your life to hate. I'm not interested in living that way," she says, her timid little voice stronger than Grimmjow has heard it in a long time.

His sneer is slow and deliberate, as his canines glitter sharply in her direction.

He watches her gulp and feels her pulse escalate, as he stands and approaches her.

"Don't you hate _me_, little Inoue?"

It is the first time he has used her name, and she knows it, as her eyes widen.

"N-No..." she breathes, and the second the syllable leaves her rosy lips, she knows she has said the wrong thing.

His hand reaches out and snatches up her arm, and he feels the porcelain crumble and bruise beneath the tight grip of his fingers. Her mouth is open, and her heart flutters like a little bird's and Grimmjow feels his veins begin to explode with excitement as he throws her against the far wall, her back and pearly flesh colliding with the white washed stone.

He advances on her, back almost arched; stalking her like the cat he is at heart.

Her eyes are wide and full of fear, but he is unsure as to whether her body is trembling in wretched terror or anticipation. He presses her wrist harder against the wall.

"Are you sure? Don't you loathe me? I want to destroy your precious Kurosaki... how will he ever rescue you if he's been shredded into tiny pieces by _Pantera_?" his tongue rolls over the word and his eyes darken as he thinks of Kurosaki's blood pooling over his hands, smearing across his face.

His sneer is wide and true and feral and the girl seems to shrink even more.

"I-... I can't stop you thinking these things about Ichigo... you can't help it. You're Destruction, it's the only thing you know-"

The slap rings through the room, the back of his hand causing the soft skin of her cheek to ignite in red, and she cries out a little in pain. She makes no attempt to fight him off, but then again, Grimmjow reasons, she is not completely stupid.

"So I get your pity, huh?" he breathes, lips so close to her own she can feel the heat of his breath. Blood, hot carmine liquid trickles from the corner of her mouth, staining her ivory skin and running like a tear until it drips from her chin.

Grimmjow's eyes are locked on the sight, and he can feel his own body trembling with excitement, her eyes never leaving his face.

He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, taking in the rich scent of her ruby red blood, before darting his pointed tongue out and sliding it along her chin, right up to her lip, taking the remains of the blood along with him. It feels like a cat's tongue, rough like sandpaper and warm like the sun.

The taste explodes on his tongue, rich and sweet and sumptuous, _just like her_.

Her ample chest is heaving, and her brow is prickled with sweat, and her cheek stings red, and her blood lingers on the tip of Grimmjow's tongue as he leans over her to capture her lips, bite them and tear them, anything for another taste of her.

The footsteps outside the door are barely noticeable, but Grimmjow's ears perk up and he leaps from her, settling down on the bed in one swift move, as she stands there, lost in moments before.

Ulquiorra's form is visible seconds later, the room ignited by the pooling light from the hallway beyond, cold green eyes wary.

His eyes linger on the girl.

Grimmjow curses Ulquiorra to hell, and prays the girl won't rat him out.

"Inoue. Are you alright?"

Grimmjow frowns at her and Ulquiorra's eyes flicker to him a moment.

Then her face breaks out in a smile and she nods.

"Yes! I'm completely fine Ulquiorra!" she says brightly, her eyes shining.

"You're bleeding."

"A-Am I? Oh, I'm such a klutz, I bumped into the wall when I was showing Grimmjow the cheer the cheerleaders in my school used to do! I'm so sorry, I'll be more careful next time!"

She is grinning widely and innocently, and Grimmjow's mind works furiously as he tries to decipher what she wants to gain from this.

Ulquiorra does not look convinced. Grimmjow knows he is not, as he walks away, door closing sharply behind him.

Grimmjow waits until he feels his reiatsu wander away, before jumping up and glaring at the girl.

"What the fuck do you want?"

She looks shocked, and rubs her wrist where he snatched it earlier, shaking her head. He is not in the mood for fake innocence, because he knows she is so much more than what she pulls off for Ulquiorra.

"You _know_ I have to repay you for not ratting me out, Inoue."

He uses her name again, and he hears her heart stutter, before she stops massaging her arm, and watches him steadily. Her lip trembles, and Grimmjow can feel her emotions on the edge of tumbling out from her lips.

"I want you... to continue what you were doing before Ulquiorra came in."

Grimmjow wouldn't believe his ears if they weren't so flawless. He sees her eyes burning and his canines glitter as he smirks.

Inoue may be annoying and stupid enough not to despise him and detest him and wish he was dead – but she is soft and beautiful and so goddamn _delicious_ with those bruised lips and smarting cheek and he wants to ruin everything good about her, return her to Kurosaki broken and destroyed and not _his_ anymore.

He would take what Kurosaki wanted most, and he would enjoy it more than anything he'd ever done.

Inoue's eyes flutter to a close, as Grimmjow leans in, pressing his dry lips to her peachy soft ones, feeling the delicate flesh part at the advance of his rough tongue, and a hot, viscous liquid seep into his throat as he bites down on her bottom lip.

She tastes better than any forbidden fruit he has ever stolen, and the tiny moan in her throat makes him want to growl out in hunger.

He may be a prisoner in this place – trapped by Aizen, under lock and key of Las Noches.

But at least he has Inoue to share in his torture.

Or rather, take his torture _deliciously_ – and _enjoy_ it.

* * *

><p><strong>Heeee, I love this. Really, this story is like my best work! Thank you for all your support! Please, continue to read and review, as you know - reviews are love (:<strong>


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